


Stripped

by Coraleeveritas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-05-26 02:04:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14990399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: Brienne had long suspected that not only had her newest housemate, the gorgeous Jaime Lannister, been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, the sheer amount of money involved over the years had turned his tongue to silver as well. She had personally witnessed him talk his way out of a speeding ticket, encourage their politics professor into bumping up his midterm paper by an entire grade and, almost to add insult to injury, known exactly what to say in order to continue their competitively friendly game of poker after all of her candy tokens had been eaten.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ellethom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellethom/gifts).



> A long time ago Ellethom prompted me with a strip poker fic and this is what has come of it. I'm sorry it took so long and I'm sorry this isn't probably what anyone would be expecting with this prompt. It seemed to run away from me, hopefully it stays in character throughout.
> 
> However, the rating is subject to change because there is a second, smuttier chapter still in note form if anyone is interested in reading it. 
> 
> All mistakes are my own but characters are not :)

Brienne had long suspected that not only had her newest housemate, the gorgeous Jaime Lannister, been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, the sheer amount of money involved over the years had turned his tongue to silver as well. She had personally witnessed him talk his way out of a speeding ticket, encourage their politics professor into bumping up his midterm paper by an entire grade and, almost to add insult to injury, known exactly what to say in order to continue their competitively friendly game of poker after all of her candy tokens had been eaten.

Offering up his shirt in trade for his losing hand, Brienne felt her cheeks burst into flames as she couldn't help but notice the deliciously defined muscles Jaime proudly revealed, deliberately avoiding the subject since that morning she'd quite literally ran into him still wet from his shower. He'd teased her about it for weeks, even when she started getting up earlier just to prevent the conversation taking place but he seemed to always be where he could irritate her most. If she'd known Jaime should have been introduced with 'trouble' in neon flashing lights behind him, she might not have agreed so quickly to Tyrion's request that his brother crashed with them just while his place was being fumigated. And then redecorated. And then commandeered for official family business.

That was nine months ago.

"Show me yours and I'll show you mine, Blue," Jaime grinned, hiding his cards by holding them against his bare chest. "With a poker face like that you can only delay the inevitable for so long."

"Oh for the Gods sake," she growled, throwing down the mismatched set of red and black cards as she reluctantly rose to her feet to peel off her slightly too tight jeans, stubbornly sticking to the rules of an ever changing game. If Jaime Lannister wanted to play chicken with this strip poker business, expecting she'd blink before him, then she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of a quick victory.

As part of an ongoing campaign to get her more involved with campus life, Tyrion's girlfriend of the month had insisted on 'helping' Brienne prepare for an end of semester party she'd snuck out of at the first opportunity, leading her away from sensible layers and towards a silky blue shirt and skinny jeans, leaving her woefully underdressed for what the evening had become. If she lost even one more hand, Jaime wouldn't just be getting to stare up at the tiny white bows on her panties, he'd be seeing a lot more of her ugly, freckled skin than she had shown anyone in a long time.

"Are you happy now?" she snapped as she dropped back down to the carpet, surprised to see Jaime swallowing hard at something she couldn't explain, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly while his eyes stayed glued to her too long, too strong, too pale bare legs even when she curled them up and away protectively. He seemed to be struck speechless for a second but Jaime didn't need to say she was hideous, Brienne already knew what she was and wasn't.

"You're losing," he retorted after a beat, finally tearing his gaze away from the muscles of her thighs. As if his shifting focus was some some kind of signal, she began to slowly deal the next cards, left to wonder how much of that bottle of Pentoshi rum he'd managed to drink before she had arrived home. Maybe the stuff was a little more potent than she'd been led to believe. "And now since you've given me the best set of cards," he continued, slurring a couple of syllables like he could read the suspicion building in her mind. "I couldn't be happier."

She narrowed her eyes, glancing between the trio of queens she was holding and the unusually coy dimple taking up residence in Jaime's cheek. "You're bluffing."

"Maybe," he shrugged. "But maybe you've got a burgeoning career as a blackjack dealer that you weren't even aware of before tonight."

"I'm pretty sure we're supposed to be playing poker," she replied, absently switching out one of her unwanted cards from the pile between them. "And even then, even I know dealers aren't supposed to be actively letting customers walk away with money luck and skill hasn't allowed them to win."

"Not even if they happen to think that said customer is hot?"

"I do not!" Brienne exclaimed, throwing down her cards triumphantly as she struggled to retract the unexpected statement. "I mean...I-I certainly didn't mean what you think I meant."

Jaime's smile grew wider, becoming innocence personified while he added his socks to the growing fabric mountain in the corner of the room. "I never said I was talking about us, Blue."

"How many times do I have to remind you that my name isn't 'Blue'?"

"Always just once more," he drawled, giving her another long look from under his eyelashes that sent an unexpected series of pleasant shivers down her spine.

He lost the next hand almost too quickly for Brienne's liking and stripped without teasing, winking, ceremony, leaving him sitting crosslegged in just his clingy briefs, no inch of what had been uncovered seeming less than perfect. It took several long, drawn out seconds to shake away the disbelief of sudden attraction before Brienne diverted her attention back onto putting their game to bed. Blaming the single beer she'd sipped from at the Blackwater celebration as she peered down at her latest selection, Brienne noticed out of the corner of her eye that Jaime's gleeful facade had dropped a little. He was now biting his lip in concentration while rearranging the pair of cards he'd just picked up, his attempts at bluffing a constant rollercoaster of tells. If he wasn't practically naked, Brienne would have thought he was buying into a classic cliche, having hidden an ace up his sleeve when she wasn't looking.

She was really starting to know him far too well.

"You always think far too loudly," he murmured, catching her considering the way his face twisted with each card he threw away. "I don't know why you still trust in your opinion of me more than you actually trust me."

She mulled that observation over slowly. "You haven't really done anything to make me not not trust you, Jaime. And you've been practically in my face for months. I don't know many guys I could say that about."

"There are no guys _like_ me. Only me."

"Arrogant smart arse," she spat back, rolling her eyes so violently that her eyelashes fluttered. "Someday someone is going to knock you off that pedestal so hard you're not going to know which way-"

" _You_ already have," he replied, so matter of fact that it rendered her speechless for just long enough to miss Jaime throwing down a beautifully uniform royal flush. "I think you might owe me a piece of clothing."

"I-I do," she stuttered, "I know. Can you just...?"

"Can I just what?"

She could feel her skin burning like someone had thrown another armful of kindling on the fire raging beneath her freckles. "Turn around."

"You're only delaying the inevitable, Blue."

"Please." Brienne thought her shirt was probably just long enough to cover everything important if she slipped off her underwear, especially if she tugged at the silk hard enough, as she wasn't willing to admit defeat just yet.

"Okay," he shrugged, turning his head away from her. "If you want to drag this out who am I to argue."

If it wasn't for the way his eyes widened until they resembled priceless jade green saucers as she deposited a handful of white cotton on top of his jeans, shuffling uncomfortably all the while, she could have believed Jaime had been turned to stone.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he grinned a little too brightly. "Are you going to stand up there all night or are we going to play this last hand?"

Hearing the seams of her shirt cry out in resistance as she pulled at the silky surface, Brienne locked her knees together and lowered herself down, Jaime almost looking impressed at the control. But he barely raised an eyebrow when she let him shuffle the pack for the first time since they'd started, trusting that there wasn't much he could tamper with when they both seemed more interested in each other than the game, catching him looking at her whenever she felt the urge to glance across at him over the top of her cards.

Brienne didn't know when this had all changed into something distinctly more charged but she could near enough hear the crackle of electric tension in the air, expecting to feel a spark when their fingers brushed going for the pack at the same time, transfixed by the equally hungry and confused expression on Jaime's face as she unfurled her legs.

"Did you hear they're re-opening the lakeside trails?" Jaime asked, pausing briefly to clear his throat. If she hadn't known better, she would have said he sounded nervous. "We should go for a run sometime."

"Together?" she squeaked in reply, hating the expectant tone in her voice. It wouldn't be a novel idea. Since he had moved in, they'd gone from Jaime inviting himself along each morning to her waiting specifically for him before heading out to run the five mile stretch of unused railway track that curled around the back of their apartment block.

He barked out a laugh, a low rumble of joy that set up another strangely pleasant ache in the pit of her stomach. "A little healthy competition never hurt anyone."

"Does that mean if I...if tomorrow I-"

"Win? You're getting a little ahead of yourself, Blue, we've still got tonight to finish first."

She blinked, nodding her understanding. "I would like to see what they've done to improve the trail, sometime. The whole nature reserve used to be an amazing place with a visitors centre, picnic areas and, of course, the legendary hot springs."

"So," Jaime cocked his head, his golden tan seeming to take on a pinker shade as she tried, unsuccessfully, to explain the fabled healing powers of the water. "What you're telling me is that I need to bring some snacks and my swimming trunks and we can hang out there all day?"

"You might need a little more than that."

"I'll get some sandwiches, then."

"Regular sandwiches, Jaime," she reminded him, too caught up in the fantastical idea that she didn't really want to stop him. "Not your usual gourmet nonsense that's neither nutritious or filling. Do you-?"

"Do I know how to make a _sandwich_?" he echoed incredulously, forgetting to hide his cards for a second. They were no better than hers. "Where do you think I grew up? Buckingham Palace?"

"Of course not, I didn't mean..."

"Maybe Never Never Land?"

" _Jaime_ ," she sighed, the twinkling glint in his eye giving away how seriously he was taking the conversation. He shot her a responding lopsided smile that set a kaleidoscope of butterflies off inside her stomach, fluttering lower still as Jaime absently ran a hand through his hair.

"I like it when you call me by my name."

"I wish you'd remember that when you find another nickname to add to your list," Brienne replied as sensibly as she could, gesturing at the all but forgotten pack of cards. "Should we continue?"

Jaime nodded, and although it appeared that he might have finally adopted a more solemn approach only as the end of the game was coming into view, when she checked carefully, there still was a glint of mischievousness hiding in his darkening emerald green irises. "Read 'em and weep."

Brienne bit into her lip, attempting to stifle a uncharacteristically sudden string of giggles when she realised what Jaime's latest offering meant. She would need a calculator to work out the exact odds, but there was no way the five cards he had revealed could be exactly the same as hers, except for being in opposing colours. And yet, the proof was right in front of her eyes; two threes, a seven, a queen and a king.

Jaime held onto his frown for a second longer than Brienne was able to, joining her in laughter. "I think that's what they call a stalemate, Blue. Do you want to replay the point?"

"We both lost."

"Technically, yes," Jaime sighed. "But that's a rather defeatist attitude to have just because no one won outright."

Brienne wasn't sure she could agree with him this time, gathering the cards up and getting ready to shuffle them throughly. "Surely there should be a forfeit."

"For a coincidence?"

"I don't completely believe in coincidences."

"I should have known," he smiled. "So how would that be fair, Ms Honourable? I'm down to my last item of clothing, you're not."

"That's not true," she spat back. "I'm not wearing anything underneath this shirt so if you strip, I strip, too."

"Okay," he drew the word out, rolling the syllables around on his tongue as his pupils seemed to dilate further even in the growing light, the first rays of an early morning sunrise starting to creep around the curtain edges. "It's okay if you're not up to the challenge of another go. I'm overflowing with luck, Blue."

"Once I've restocked on candy, I'll be happy to play again. Dornish Hold 'Em can't be the only variation we both know. And the more we play, the more you'll realise that skill beats luck every time."

Jaime raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me that you know how to count cards? I never would have thought you'd-"

"Again that's blackjack, not poker."

He grinned at her correction and in the time it took him to run through the various ways they could combine the two games, Brienne realised that she was coming to like seeing him so relaxed and carefree. They hadn't spent a great deal of time together when they weren't locked into a heated disagreement over one thing or another and she was discovering that Jaime was among the handful of people she could truly feel comfortable around. If she thought about it properly, it was why she agreed to this whole strip poker business in the first place, but she was too busy hoping he wouldn't remember too many damning details in the morning to accept the terms of their friendship.

There seemed to be no point in prolonging the awkward agony after he finished talking, Jaime following her lead to stand proudly on slightly unsteady legs, looking up at her with an almost awestruck expression at the boldness guiding her actions. She had no qualms in offering him a helping hand when his balance threatened to leave him completely, feeling the coiled tension in his muscles slowly seep under her skin until her own fingers were trembling just as much as his when she started to unbutton her shirt.

Taking a breath, but keeping her eyes wide open, Brienne let the silken cloth fall from her shoulders, noticing Jaime disrobing in the same instance, nothing left between them and the cold, hard truth made up of skin, bone and muscle. With Jaime staying quiet for longer than she'd expected, Brienne felt her pulse picking up speed, being forced to wrack her brain for a line of conversation that would pierce through the descending veil of silence. He looked almost too godlike, and suddenly a wave of guilt washed over her, terrified that she was somehow taking advantage even though it was Jaime who suggested the change in the odds. As if it could ease her shifting emotions, Brienne tried to not look at the perfectly proportionate appendage between his legs but it was unavoidable as she drew her eyes down to his calves and toes and back up to hips and ribs and shoulders.

"Do you want me to turn around?" he laughed, the sound allowing Brienne to catch him finishing up his own careful study of her uncovered flesh, so caught up in what had been revealed that she'd forgotten to immediately hide behind her usual levels of modesty. But Jaime didn't give her enough time to panic about what she didn't have in relation to breasts or a waist as her arms rose to cover what seemed most necessary, instead pointing to the scar that divided her collarbone in two before travelling across her chest like an ugly pink sash. "What happened there?"

She swallowed. "That's what I was left with from that car accident when I was twelve. The s-seatbelt cut straight into me on impact."

Although he knew that story from beginning to end, Brienne had not plucked up enough courage to tell him the whole thing in one go, and she was thankful Jaime had enough sense not to push for more right now. Still, he hadn't stopped traversing the plains of her torso like she was new terrain that needed to be understood, coming to rest on another marked area in the deep tissue of her left thigh.

"And there?"

"Bad puppy." She pulled a face and Jaime grimaced in sympathy as her hand waved in the vague direction of his right flank, surprised at how calm they were both remaining. "It looks like something tried to take a bite out of you as well."

"Appendix. It burst before they could get in there and I spent a fortnight in the hospital living off whatever my brother could smuggle in."

Brienne smiled despite the creeping return of self consciousness, reaching for the plaid blanket resting on the back of sofa to wrap around her torso. "Did you eat anything green during that time at all?"

"Does jello count?"

She shook her head, her smile growing wider. "Not even slightly."

"Thank the gods I've got you now to keep an eye on what I put in my mouth."

It was the way that he held eye contact that made her blush again, the colour trickling down her throat like melting ice. A second later she felt the heat spreading out across her chest only to disappear behind the arm she was using to cover the prickle tightening her nipples. She felt nervous in a way she hadn't experienced since she'd danced with Renly Baratheon at her father's third wedding.

"As if that would matter if you were faced with one of those fudge cakes you like so much."

"I'm not going to be twenty two forever," Jaime patted his abs lovingly, pulling Brienne's attention to the obvious twitching occurring further down. "Isn't that what you keep telling me?"

"I-I...I didn't realise you'd fallen so heavily last week when Tyrion took us to the dry ski slope. Those bruises still look painful."

"I thought they were getting to a point where they matched my eyes," he laughed, though it wasn't without some underlying discomfort. "You've got a nasty one on your hip considering how much were showing off on that snowboard."

"Says the man who probably grew up with the most expensive summer snow and winter sun holidays ever to exist," she glared back at him. "It's not my fault my uncle works at the Eastwatch resort."

It went on like that for a while, Brienne unable to stop the almost fond, though still argumentative, back and forth as they pointed out each bruise and blemish on the other's body, their active lives providing a map of interestingly varied stories. Although after Jaime explained the scar that circled his pinky finger with a tale that involved his brother, a Braavosi villa and an exotic dancer, she was beginning to think he was a better storyteller than his Valyrian literature assignments promised.

She thought about shuffling towards him, as if the proximity could confirm how much he was elaborating on the truth of the incident, only to find herself so close that Brienne wondered if she'd actually moved without giving her feet the command. "That can't be right."

"What would be the point in lying?" Jaime shrugged. "Tyr tells it a little differently, but he usually only leaves out the dancer so he can pick up other girls."

"And you don't use it to pick up girls?"

He cocked his head as if it was something he hadn't considered. "Before tonight I don't think I've met a girl who's been that interested in discussing my flaws."

Brienne snorted. "Clearly they don't stick around long enough to really get to know you then. Anyone who's seen you drinking milk straight from the carton or using YouTube to work out how to do laundry would probably have second thoughts about wanting to spend time with you. And that's even if they were originally interested in your pretty face."

"You think I'm pretty?"

"That's what you heard in all of that?" she huffed, tightening the hold she had around her blanket.

"Well, yes. You're not usually overflowing with compliments," he pointed out. "Especially for those of us not special enough to be allowed to attend your weekly martial arts keep fit class."

"How many times do I have to tell you? If you'd been quiet, you could have stayed."

"It would have been a normal level if my instructor mode wasn't a stubborn mule of a woman who sucks the fun out of everything."

Brienne had to shake away the crazy idea of tasting his suddenly trembling, pouting lower lip, biting into her own to distract her over stimulated and under rested mind. "And you were acting like a spoilt little rich boy who doesn't play well with others."

"I don't know," he mused slowly. "I've been playing quite well with you tonight."

"Isn't that because you've been drinking?" she asked, ignoring the gentle suggestion lilting through his words, deciding then and there that oddly timed mock flirting was just another one of his bad habits. "And we're usually in bed long before the sun comes up. I'm sure sleep deprivation increases the time it takes for..." she trailed off, narrowing her eyes at the barely concealed mirth shaking Jaime's shoulders. "What?"

"Your bed or mine?" he teased. "If you really want someone to spoon with, I'm up for it."

"Shut up," she growled, another strange spike of want rose on a wave of embarrassment sending her scrambling for the safety of old, defensive, habits. With her armour settling back into place as Jaime found new ways to promise he was only joking, she fought the urge to run upstairs and shower away every single unwanted sensation.

"Brienne," he murmured, the softer tone simultaneously sending goosebumps down her arms and raising her hackles, ready for a fight. But all Jaime did was take a deep breath and blurt out a confession she could never have predicted. 

"I've been failing at drinking to forget which day it is. Was."

She frowned. "It was a Tuesday."

"Aerys Targaryen's parole hearing day. They had to let me know, just in case they needed to call me in, but his people have been keeping it out of the press for weeks."

Brienne sat down with a thud. She knew the story, everyone knew the story, it had dominated the media for months back when the original trial had ran its course and was still occasionally referred to when similar cases surfaced. Aerys Targaryen, noted financial mogul and long time business partner of Tywin Lannister, seized in the middle of the night by undercover police and accused of the largest fraud scheme Westeros had seen in several generations. And if that didn't stir up enough gossip to fill the front pages, the naked man now looking down at Brienne with a woeful expression had also been pulled into the dock following a violent altercation with Aerys earlier that same day. There had been rumours that Jaime was only acting on his father's orders, though others wanted to call on a torrid affair that could destroy both families as the reason why and others still hinted at a darker history non-disclosure acts had all but hidden away.

"So this was just a distraction from your guilt?"

"Just looking at you can be a distraction, Blue," he admitted as she bristled further, caught in a storm of warring emotions. "But you're one of the few people I've met who doesn't always look at me like I'm walking with the Stranger. And I think you might like to know the true truth."

"What other kind is there?"

"You'd be surprised."

As he attempted to join her on the sofa, Jaime lost his balance on a previously discarded card and Brienne didn't think before reaching for him, stopping his fall but ending up entwined in a tangled embrace of limbs and blanket. She almost had to lift him out of her lap, the way their bodies seemed to want to melt together bringing to mind a mockery of post coital bliss that she didn't want to dwell on. It was a while before either of them spoke again, though, stealing glimpses of glances until the heat that tickled at her sensibilities had simmered back down to a bearable level.

"I don't think I understand why that happened so quickly, it's only been-"

"Five years," Jaime interrupted, pulling the blanket out to its full size so he could cover himself up a little, remaining at a safe distance for now. "Twice as long as what they gave me, although I never saw the inside of a cell. But I guess that's what money and family connections get you."

"For you or him?" She mumbled a curse under her breath as Jaime's eyes narrowed down to slits. "I mean aren't minors supposed to have the law on their side when it comes to being protected?"

"If only Tywin had cared less about his reputation than what was happening to his son maybe that would have mattered."

"I-I didn't know, I'm-"

"Don't you dare say you're 'sorry', Blue. I don't need your pity on top of everything else."

"You're the last person who needs to be pitied, Jaime," she hissed without thinking, finally content enough to start ridding herself of the last of her ridiculously romantic notions. "And I tend to save my 'sympathies' for friends who might be having a hard time. The only thing I'm sorry about is that I misread the situation."

"Brienne," he sighed deeply, the syllables of her name becoming apologetic, though it was the static shock from his fingertips brushing against her elbow as she prepared to leave that made her stop moving altogether. "You're so wrong."

"You always think that," she countered, sharp edges threatening to soften as he continued staring up at her with those thrice damned contrite eyes. "And, as you'll still think that later, I think it's about time I went to bed."

"Pickles don't belong on pizzas, Brienne. You've really got to stop ordering extras that bleed into my sausage mushroom side."

She bit into her lip, frowning. "You really don't need to pacify me. I'm not your sis-"

"No," he interrupted, his tone more than a touch wry. "You are most certainly not. You actually care. Unless I've been reading things wrong."

"You're wrong about a lot of things, Jaime, like pickles, but that's not one of them."

His smile looked forced, not quite reaching past the end of his lips, even as he patted the seat next to him in a silent invitation. If she hadn't been wearing just a blanket, Brienne wouldn't have had to think about staying. "If I'm going to tell this story, it would be better if you'd sit down. I'm going to get a crick in my neck if I have to keep looking up at you."

"Let me get my pyjamas first," she replied, trying to find a reasonable compromise without starting another war of words. "I can get something for you as well, if you want."

"You mean to say you're not enjoying getting an extended viewing of my name day suit?" he laughed, full of mock outrage as he rose to his feet.

Brienne blushed, much as she thought Jaime expected her to. "I thought we'd already established that I'm not one of your favourite cheerleaders, overly impressed by pretty things."

"No," he agreed, careful not to trip on the ends of her blanket as he started to follow her down the hall. "You're something else. Though you still think I'm pretty."

"I wish you'd stop saying that."

"I'm only repeating what you said to me."

"I thought parroting information only worked for high school pop quizzes."

"If I'm your parrot, then you must be my pirate wench," he fired back all too fondly. "So when do we set sail, Blue?"

"Like I'd go out on the water with-"

"Someone who didn't grow up with a yacht?" Jaime suggested, with what she could only assume was a giant grin burning into the back of her head. Or perhaps it was her butt where he was focusing his attention, as he was probably getting a decent look at they climbed up the stairs of the maisonette.

"It wasn't a yacht!" she insisted, determined not to turn around. "It was a boat."

"It went round the world. Twice."

"I really wish I hadn't told you that," Brienne sighed as she paused by her bedroom door, unsure if she should invite him past the threshold. He'd already been in there too many times to count but their current state of undress, and her traitorous thoughts, made the offer seem more significant than a friendly gesture. "P-pyjamas and then do you want to..."

"Your place or mine, wench?"

"Don't call me that."

Her heartbeat doubled in the time it took Jaime to invade her personal space, still smelling like every one of the seven heavens combined it made her head spin. His eyes were clear, green pools of unspoiled beauty, unlike earlier, staring intently into hers. "Did you like 'Blue' better?"

"N-not really," she stammered honestly, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders as if it could protect her from her own desires. They were almost friends, though Tyrion remained one of the few people she could definitely call that. And for that reason alone she had no right making their living situation any more awkward than it already was for however long Jaime was going to be staying with them just because she had developing a little crush. "I like 'Brienne,'" she decided. "That's my name."

"I like 'Brienne', too."

"Then, why do you insist on calling me everything but that?"

Whether he shared or was even aware of anything she was currently battling with, Brienne didn't know but it _was_ Jaime who broke eye contact first, aiming his parting remark over his shoulder as he walked in a deceptively straight line to his room. "For the look on your face, of course. You're never more gorgeous when you don't know if you'd rather kiss or kill me."

She took a much needed breath, her mind automatically blocking out everything after the backhanded compliment, trying, in vein, to get the last word in before his door closed. "One of these days, Jaime Lannister, you're going to realise how ridiculous you are."

"Does that mean you need more than a minute to make yourself decent?"

"No," she replied, raising her voice so it carried across the corridor. "My room is actually tidy so I don't need a full arctic expedition to find a pair of pants."

"That happened once! And they were my lucky pants, if that makes a difference."

"What do you think?" Brienne asked, swallowing a snort of laughter at his overdramatic gasp as she retrieved her comfiest pyjamas from the top shelf of her wardrobe. There was a part of her that still wished she'd declined Shae's party invite to spend the night snuggled up in front of a movie where everything inevitably exploded even if it would have meant missing out on seeing a stripped down Jaime.

"Let me guess, you don't believe in superstition either," he smiled, knocking once for permission before launching himself across the room to land onto her bed with a graceful thump. "Gods, if I'd known your bed was so much better than mine, I would have asked to swap a long time ago."

"You're still a guest here," she reminded, sitting down beside him. "We could have put you on the sofa."

"You're far too honourable to subject me to that monstrosity when there was a perfectly adequate unoccupied room."

Brienne pulled a face as he offered her a well plumped pillow, preferring to sit straight backed and cross legged despite the late hour. "You're lucky we were allowed to keep this place when your brother's friend decided to live elsewhere."

"You're lucky you didn't have to live with Bronn."

"At least he has too many jobs and too many girlfriends to have been here all that much. Unlike someone I know."

"Trust me, you got the better end of the deal getting me. I'm-"

"A pain in the arse?" she offered before Jaime could throw all idea of modesty to the wind.

"But a pretty pain in the arse," he pointed out with a somewhat crooked grin, his hand slipping into hers like it belonged there.

"When-?"

"Are you sitting comfortably?"

She nodded, forgetting the rest of her sentence at the feel of him squeezing her fingers tight as he took a deep breath.

"Then I'll begin."


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tension comes to a head. And then explodes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the (smutty) second chapter of this fic. It took a while longer than I'd hoped to bring everything together but fingers crossed its all okay now. Feelings and intentions still are niggling at me so I hope the build makes sense.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has encouraged me with this one, I hope it's been worth the wait!

"W-why didn't you tell someone any of that before now?" she stuttered some twenty minutes later, her eyes widening past the point of comfortable at the revelations Jaime had casually dropped into her lap in the same way he'd tell her about the awful pop quizzes Professor Baelish liked to set. "Surely-"

"And who exactly do you think would have believed any of that when it was the word of a spoilt teenager against all Aerys' thousand dragon an hour lawyers?" Jaime countered, resigned and ferocious in the same breath, like he'd been stuck reliving the same argument for years. "All the things they made me swear and it turned out there was no one willing to take the stand in my defence other than my father. Even his, my most trusted bodyguards weren't allowed to speak for my character when they were one strike away from going inside themselves."

"But you had nothing to gain by lying!"

"Have you conveniently forgotten that I'm a Lannister?"

"And why should that matter?" she spat back without thinking, playing catch up, always the thunder to his lightning. "Why should it be assumed that because you have a fancy, over praised name _you_ were the one most at fault when a pack of defence lawyers were being paid to have an ulterior motive?"

"Not to mention the pack of prosecutors."

"I'm guessing your father's people just made things worse." Brienne had only met the late, great Tywin Lannister once, at a faculty basketball brunch back in freshman year, but those few minutes of being studiously judged had provided her with all the information she'd needed to later understand exactly why Tyrion and Jaime were the way they were. Her junior politics project had come with a reading list on the Targaryen trial a mile long, but none of those books had come close to explaining the emotional impact of what Jaime had started by stepping out of line, or the fallout of cross examination bringing the public into their businesses, on the Lannister family dynamics. She couldn't imagine growing up in the cavernous Casterly House feeling so desperately unloved or unwanted and then being cast out for doing the right thing.

"Of course," Jaime agreed. "He suddenly had no opinions on anything that could have damaged the family legacy. Including the reason why I'd broken the nose of a man who was trying to assault his own daughter in law while we were watching his grandchildren. I had no clue Aerys had been doing the same thing with half the staff for years."

"You weren't more than a child yourself, you couldn't have been expected to look out for everyone," she said, sliding forward until their knees bumped, pushing away the rogue thought that he might even fall into her arms if she opened them to him.

"I should have tried."

"You didn't know what you didn't know."

"I should have tried harder," he insisted, his eyes boring straight into hers before they dropped back down into his lap. "Though it wasn't as if there was any evidence left by that point to prove what I'd witnessed. The girls always disappeared as soon as they could and his family had gone through too much by that point to survive questioning. And although she'd seen just as much as I had, Tywin never let Cersei so much as think about coming to court."

Brienne blinked, the simmering under her skin threatening to boil over. "So, what you're telling me is that...that misogynistic asshole played favourites and protected one of you from the media circus over the other?"

"He did. And she still ended up in rehab before I decided to join Tyrion here, both of us eventually meeting this stupid, stubborn blue eyed Amazon who doesn't mind sharing her insanely soft pillows." Jaime was finally finding his smile again, his dimples reappearing to make dangerously sweet grooves in his cheeks as he slowly stretched and collapsed further back into her bed. "And the rest, as they say, is history."

"Letting you get away with stealing isn't sharing." She bit her lip, determined not to let his change in mood affect whatever there was left to talk about. "Wait a minute, did you even take that history class you were thinking about last semester?"

"Was I supposed to?"

"If all the afternoons you spend lazing around here mean anything you don't exactly have a packed schedule," Brienne raised an eyebrow when he opened his mouth to interject, settling on licking his lips and narrowing his eyes when she pushed on, feeling another wave of butterflies fluttering their wings in her stomach at the sight of his teeth nibbling the surface he'd just moistened. "Even with soccer twice a week. An extra class would give you more credits to work with and any chance of graduating early would show your father what kind of person you really are."

"Hells, graduating on time would piss off the old dinosaur. How you can see anything good in amongst all that shit, I don't know," he shook his head slowly, sounding almost awestruck at the idea. "Wait, how do you know when we have games?"

"Tyrion prefers to go with a friend that can discuss strategy and things with him," she shrugged. "Your brother doesn't date many girls who tolerate all weather sports and the chess club aren't known for their love of them either. So that just leaves me."

"Next time you find yourself getting bored in the stands with everyone ogling me, you should-"

"I do not 'ogle'!"

"Sure, and you don't still get all misty eyed over that poor Highgarden striker either," he drawled not unkindly. "Anyway, as I was saying, next time you come you should take some notes for me. For training purposes. I bet being a spectator is torturous when you've usually got all those ridiculous opinions on technique."

"You could spend a little less time showing off but your team aren't half bad."

"There you go!" he crowed triumphantly. "Anything else I should know, Coach?"

She rolled her eyes amicably at his choice of nickname. "Until I'm being paid to care about your every move I swear I'm not answering to that."

"And you'd never go back on an oath?" He batted his eyelashes at her. "Even if I said pretty please. Pretty please with whipped cream on top?"

"That's not the-" she shook her head, not liking being distracted by the question of what exactly he wanted to put whipped cream on. "Of course I'm not going to break one! Who do you think I am?"

"Honesty personified if I had to guess. Or one of those angry angels Pycelle spent all that time discussing last year," he laughed, deliberately forgetting to pause so she had no time to process his latest complimentary insult. "Maybe a Kingsguard knight born four or five centuries too late."

"That's ridiculous, Jaime. A living person can't be a myth or legend."

"Ever heard of Arthur Dayne? Manager of the Sunspear Serpents? Winner of three Planeteros Cup Titles?" he said passionately. "Just because you only come to see me play as a favour to a friend doesn't mean you have to be completely ignorant about the sport. What happens if there was a trivia prize draw and winning it meant free rides to whatever grad school you and your roommates wanted?"

"I'm not sure knowing who Arthur Dayne, greatest soccer player of the past century, is would make any difference in that situation," Brienne replied sensibly, happier now he had stopped all the histrionics that came with his faux flirting. "And you do remember telling me that you and Tyrion were happy not having serious plans after college, right? Something about the joy of no fixed abode, swimming in every ocean, seeing more than postcards promise."

"You don't know everything about me," he huffed, pouting like she had insulted his name, honour and intelligence in one low blow. "Maybe I've found something I want to stay here for."

"Gods, after tonight do you really think I'd be annoyed if you told me you had changed your mind about more education? Seriously, Jaime, you can bring me the course guides, show me the websites, I'll help you pick out the best one if you want."

"That's...nice but I've made my choice already."

"You have?"

He shrugged, unable or unwilling to let his gaze waiver from her face. "There was something I wasn't willing to give up."

It seemed odd that this was the thing he didn't want to tell her, but Brienne was becoming too tired for further arguments. "If you don't want to tell me, that's okay."

"That's not it, Blue. We're sort of friends and this would change that."

"We can still be sort of friends even if you move to the other side of the country. I'm not going to stop loving you because you-"

One second she was staring into mossy green and the next she was on her back with Jaime's lips fused to hers, one hand buried in his hair. Strangely, it wasn't shock that rose first from the depths of her clouded mind as the kiss deepened into something she had only read about, giving herself a moment to gasp and grasp for a thought though it turned out to be a futile attempt for clarity. She could barely remember what she'd admitted that had sparked his amorous interest, too confused and embarrassed that when Jaime Lannister had thrown himself at her she didn't have the desire or self control to refuse a single kiss, her right leg automatically hooking over his knee so he could rest more comfortably between her thighs.

She didn't have many good experiences with romance but he seemed happy enough to take the lead until she worked out how to meet his movements, encouraging rather than demanding whenever an amendment to pace or position was warranted, while they made out like their lives depended on it.

If she'd known the best way to shut Jaime up was to kiss him, she might have given more thought to acting on her oddly infuriating attraction weeks ago.

Brienne wriggled into a more comfortable spot just as his touches turned tender, the repose giving her time to bask in the decadent warmth of Jaime's body pressed firmly against hers. She expected that in a few days he would have forgotten the exact reason why he'd needed comfort and she would need to file their encounter under 'one time only' and 'never to be repeated' no matter how enthusiastically his hands were roaming. Jaime had his own place waiting for him, work soon to be completed on it, and he'd have to be a very special kind of person to want to drive almost an hour out of his way just to bicker with her face to face. Or make out some more when he had so many prettier options to explore even if she was struggling to remember the last date he'd been on.

With their tongues still desperate to stay twined together, Brienne listened to him growl into her mouth as her fingertips grazed exposed slivers of sun kissed skin, any effort they'd put into dressing seeming wasteful now they were happily horizontal with toned muscles flexing and falling into subconscious rhythms. Her spine felt as tight as a boxed coil, a bow string pulled back in anticipation of the arrow, and it was impossible to overlook how hard he was pushing against her thigh while a lustful drumbeat started to pound between her thighs. She didn't think she'd ever been as intoxicated as she was now.

Brienne had lost track of time when his lips finally left hers long enough for them both to breathe, worrying Jaime had realised what an awful mistake this all could be, only for him to silently wrap her closer than close and paint a heated path down her neck with the same mouth that had been calling her into battle a few hours ago. She moaned his name, knowing the sounds she was making were louder and lengthier than the only other occasion she'd been in a similar situation, tricked that time into imagining a classmate actually wanted to see what existed beneath ugly sweaters and novelty socks.

"Jaime," she repeated, shocking herself at how roughly her voice broke, half formed questions floating up to the ceiling like slowly deflating party balloons. "Should I...? Are you sure you...? What are we...?"

"We were working out how good we are at making out," Jaime rocked back onto his knees after placing a final kiss to her collarbone, his pupils blown so wide that the thin ring of emerald green left behind reminded her of a strangely viridescent solar eclipse. "Do you want to stop?"

"I-I don't think..." Brienne stumbled over her tiring tongue as she tried to blink away the sparks setting light to hundreds of tiny fires under her skin, already longing for the fervour of Jaime's touch again. If they really were reaching the point of no return, and never could go back to whatever they were to each other the previous morning, then maybe letting this be a one time thing, in her own bed, with him, would be enough to satisfy her need and also keep her fragile heart protected from further damage. "I don't want to do that."

"Me neither." Jaime didn't hide his sigh of relief, smiling as he tried to squeeze the tension out of her hands that just wanted to become better acquainted with his chest. "We can go as fast or as slow as you need, Blue. I've got nowhere else I'd rather be."

"Haven't we already agreed that that's not my name?" she asked, aiming to find safety in her usual flavour of disgruntled displeasure despite how her world was still shifting into a new orbit, one that mirrored Jaime's perfectly, but sounding closer to overwhelmed instead.

"Oh, we did."

"And?"

"And while I like how your name tastes normally, it's definitely not as good as when you try to kiss it out of me."

She paused, feeling her forehead crease. "Why do you say things like that?"

"Because I can. Because I mean it. If there's one thing my family taught me it's that life's too short for lies and games," he promised, making sure to catch her eye so she could clearly see the two crossed lines he drew over his heart. "Trust me, I'm a Lannister?"

Reaching for him felt beyond wanton, though she couldn't see any other way to pull him back down to her level and she really wanted him to be reading from the same page of the same book right now. Offering no word of complaint now that he was tucked under her, Jaime released a delighted gurgling laugh that she'd managed to find enough confidence to guide him into the middle of the bed, gazing adoringly up at Brienne straddled across his lap like this wasn't her first rodeo.

"Is this okay?" she asked as he started to mouth at her neck again, slowly finding pleasure points she never knew existed while her palms rubbed up and down his back. "I'm not sure...I mean I don't know, I'm probably too heavy."

"You're perfect," he murmured, his warm breath making her shiver just as much as the fingers softly stroking the freckled flesh on show just above the waistband of her pyjamas. "Just keep doing what you're doing. Everything feels so good with you like this."

He was so earnest, so starry eyed and reassuring, that she nearly let go of a nervously overexcited giggle of her own, swallowing the sound down as she settled for touching as much of him as she could reach, almost needing to prove that Jaime, here and now, was real.

"I've been dreaming about you," he admitted into her skin, a warm rumble of affection and allure causing Brienne's muscles to twitch and Jaime to groan in reply as she brushed against his growing erection. "Every time we were fighting about something stupid and then we weren't," he paused like something profound had just came to him. "Your lips are softer than I could imagine."

"Yours...aren't." Brienne swallowed, shifting her weight from knee to knee until Jaime wrapped his arms around her waist and steadied her nerves. "We didn't do much kissing in my dreams. I'm not sure why I couldn't work out how it would feel even when I was asleep."

"Because nothing was going to compare to the real thing?"

She stared down at him witheringly. "Cocky."

"Always," he shot back like she'd set up an easy volley, grinding his hips into hers so she could become acquainted with the extent of said confidence. "And especially when you're around."

She frowned. "What about at spring break with your sister's mousy minion? Melara?"

"You were parading through the apartment in those tiny plaid shorts when her Uber arrived."

"Oh."

"If you really want to be surprised by something," he murmured into her ear. "I should tell you I've lost count of how many mornings I've had to take care of myself in the shower because of what we'd done in my dreams."

"We all have to use that shower, Jaime," she sighed, the reprimand in her head sounding as little more breathless than she'd planned as he started to rub two days worth of stubble up and down her jaw.

"So you're telling me you've never-"

"Not never. Occasionally. And I cleaned the tub each time."

He laughed gently as she blushed, happier to tease than tell her off for giving into her impulses. "We all have to use that tub, Brienne."

"Shut. Up."

"After tonight whenever you want or need something to fuel your fantasy time alone, just let me know," Jaime smiled against her lips, waiting this time until she returned the kiss wholeheartedly before moving even an inch, the twinkle in his eyes toeing the line of wholesome and wicked.

"What now?"

"I'm just thinking about how sweet dream you tasted. Every night."

"You'd really want...?" she started, naivety bubbling uncomfortably to the surface like her blood had magically turned to champagne in the blink of an eye. Though when Jaime raised an eyebrow as he swept his gaze up and down her body, lasciviously biting into his smile like there were so many secrets and sinful things he couldn't wait to share, Brienne felt the familiar ugly bloom of embarrassment rise before she could do anything about trying to control how quickly the blush spread across her skin. "Oh."

"Never let it be said that I don't want to give you my full attention."

"You should try that when..." she trailed off, all the air in her lungs escaping in a rush at the press of his lips to previously untouched musculature along her shoulder, the novel sensations of want and shock rocking like a tide that only existed around her hips, pooling lower still as Jaime lifted her off him with ease, leaving her lips throbbing from the crashing impact of another hard kiss.

As promised, Jaime didn't take his eyes off her while she lay back against the wall they'd built of comforters and pillows even as he slowly started to shuffle down the bed with what felt like only one thing on his mind. Dipping his head every now and again to tease at her breasts, along her abs and around her navel. Her pale blue tank top put up a good fight when faced with the eagerness of his continued exploration but there was only so much cotton and Lycra could cover when her nipples were so pink and peaked, sweat beginning to pool in places where his mouth hadn't already suckled and soaked as the room began to heat up.

She trembled in anticipation as Jaime finally gave up pretending either of them were getting all the right sensations through the material and pushed her shirt up to her ribs, baring as much as he dared to dancing, reverent fingertips and the returning warmth of his wanton tongue.

She hadn't believed relinquishing control would make her head spin so wonderfully.

Brienne bit the inside of her cheek as she glanced down at him making short work of drowning her in kisses again, her hands in his hair as his teeth nipped gently at the exposed underside of her right breast, the suckling pressure that followed sure to leave marks if all his other attempts to make her moan hadn't. "Who'd have thought getting to second base would leave you this speechless?"

"When we study in the future," she finished almost firmly, trying to ignore the need to argumentatively bite back as her pelvis rose off the mattress to help him discard the unwanted patterned pyjama pants, Jaime nonchalantly throwing them in the direction of the door though neither of them cared enough to check exactly where they had landed.

"Okay," he nodded, purring like an oversized house cat as the back of her hand brushed across his cheekbone. Her touch remained tentative, fearfully featherlight, like he was made of polished glass and she didn't have the heart to exert more pressure in case she broke him. Or somehow ruined the fantasy she'd willingly fallen into. "I think we've managed to find your own pair of lucky pants."

"I still don't believe in luck," she insisted, stubborn resolve wavering when faced with the choice of whether to focus on the twists and turns of their conversation or the giddy goosebumps that were rising everywhere Jaime thought to trace shapes on her bare skin, studiously mapping the pale terrain that spread from freckle to freckle. "And even if it did exist, wouldn't it disappear whenever I did laundry or sat down or even rubbed against something?"

"You're overthinking this, Brienne, but you can try and rub it off on me all you want," he laughed. "I guess I'm just going to have keep taking your pants off until you get lucky as many times as you need to believe."

"You don't have to."

"Oh, I know," Jaime replied, flooding her senses with another enthusiastically given kiss right above her hip bone before fluidly whipping off the threadbare shirt he'd been planning to sleep in, the brush of skin on skin far more intimate than either one of them had been expecting if the matching hitch in his breathing was to be believed. "But I want to. Plus I've watched you stomp around here for days like a bear with a sore head," he grinned, though as languid as the stretch of his lips promised to be it was missing a certain level of arrogance, as if she was getting to see what existed beneath the expected shallow and stunning surface. "Maybe what you've really been needing is a regular release and who am I to deny a damsel in distress."

"Jaime," she sighed, the warring knots of nervous excitement and raging desire settling in her stomach leaving her too tense, too apprehensive, too turned on to chastise his terminology. She knew it wouldn't take much to talk herself out of continuing if her thoughts lingered on the wrong things for too long, trusting in her own spontaneity just as hard as trusting his intentions at first, but, at the sight of his hooded eyes jumping from her face to the demure dots decorating her damp underwear, Brienne took a beat to again remind herself that though he was many things; frustrating, quarrelsome, wonderful things, Jaime was far from cruel. He seemed to really, genuinely, like her company. And her legs amongst other things.

"How many squats do you do each morning to get thighs like this?" he wondered out loud, kissing and nuzzling up the line of muscle that ran from knee to groin, with each touch getting closer to where she was aching like never before.

"Too many," Brienne acquiesced as he took an initial, cursory lick across her covered centre, having to bite back a moan that seemed to creep up on her as if it had been building from the depths of her soul.

"Can I watch?"

"Seriously?" she gasped, closing her eyes at how quickly his tongue found a regular rhythm, darting up and down, back and forth, dipping beneath translucent material before tearing it away altogether, her body subconsciously moving to help him push the cresting waves of ecstasy higher and higher, everything feeling better than she'd ever managed by herself.

He only murmured wordlessly in agreement, continuing to press the dirtiest of open mouthed kisses to all the places controlling her rising pleasure, suckling and lapping and muffling his own moans into her skin whenever she tried to control the sensations creeping up her legs by tugging on the locks of his hair she'd wrapped around her fingers. In what she'd been able to read in the magazines Tyrion's girls left around the apartment, added to snippets of fleetingly whispered conversations between giggly freshman roommates, she never thought someone like Jaime would be patient enough to find enjoyment in an act meant to put her own need front and centre. And yet, Brienne couldn't deny the happiness or the hunger burning in his never wavering gaze with every passing second leading her closer to the edge.

As her thoughts were pushed into nonsense with the feel of his fingers purposefully sliding inside her, having moved past slick folds, too much hair and the hard button of her clit he was still sucking on, the first peak hit her like a freight train, hard and fast and undeniably strong. Still in the stratosphere, she felt his hand moving beneath the rumpled shirt failing to cover more than the freckles on her left breast and playing with a nipple to draw out her high until she was gasping Jaime's name with every other inhale. The second hit, a beautifully unexpected coda when he slowed the movement of his tongue to a soft, sensual caress rather than choose to completely stop touching her just yet, followed hot on its heels to reduce her to an exhausted, panting, boneless wreck with barely a care in the world. Her only concern in that moment was how she could possibly make Jaime feel even half as good as he'd managed to make her.

"Wow," he breathed as he caught her watching him languidly sucking the remnants of her orgasms off his fingers. "Do you always come that hard?"

Shaking her head as she basked in the afterglow, Brienne stretched and reached for him again, moaning as she discovered the lack of tension that existed between her head and toes.

"Wow," he repeated as he crawled up her body, predatory and tender, always a contradiction, and though his sweatpants were washed softer than velvet, she couldn't believe he was comfortable still wearing them when Jaime seemed to have grown longer and harder while she was at the mercy of his magic mouth. He settled over her, resting his weight on one elbow while his fingers carded through tangled strands of blonde straw like it was silk, gently grazing her forehead and her burning cheeks with whisper soft kisses. "That was so much better than a dream. You were glorious."

"I-I've never done that before." How she could still blush after what they'd just done, Brienne didn't know though the fact that even with Jaime acting as the sexiest blanket possible she was naked from the ribs down might have had something to do with it. "Not with another person, I mean. We started, him and me, but it didn't...go well."

"He's an idiot, Blue. He doesn't know what he lost out on." A beat passed, and then in a smaller voice he added, "It's been a while for me, too."

As surprised as she might have been at the lack of assumption on Jaime's part, though she couldn't believe the state of her virginity hadn't crossed his mind at one point or another, Brienne was more taken aback that there hadn't been even one social butterfly that had warranted closer inspection since his disastrous date with Melara the cheerleader. That group of girls were always flitting around the soccer team. Though as her woozy head provided her with a strange sense of clarity, Brienne realised they may have stood a chance if he hadn't been spending every spare moment exercising, taste testing curries and pasta sauces or just simply arguing about what they'd watched the night before with his new roommate.

"Oh gods," she swore quietly to herself. She'd been going on dozens of dates with him over the past few months without ever leaving the safety of their apartment. "Oh. Gods."

Jaime's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, still so close that he probably could hear her heart beating faster as her mind muddled with questions. "I think you were supposed to say that earlier. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Do you want me to go down on you again?" he smirked, pleased to find she was just as desperate as he was to keep making out, letting Brienne get another taste of herself on his tongue. "I'm more than happy to catch you up with anything else you're curious about."

"I'd rather do that to you."

He cocked his head as if in question and she nodded. "It doesn't seem fair otherwise," Brienne shrugged. "I shouldn't get more when you haven't even been touched. I want you to feel like..."

"You're so sweet," Jaime cut in as she trailed off, not knowing what else to say when all it took was another kiss and then they were suddenly scrambling to strip him down to his name day suit, her hands cupping then removing the fabric covering his perfect ass and releasing all of him to the heavy morning air. "Who am I to argue when the lady knows exactly what she wants?"

"That's never stopped you before."

"You've never wanted to wrap your hand around my cock before," he countered, gallantly kissing her hand before shifting his balance so Brienne could feel the way he throbbed against her palm.

"You'll need to teach me how to touch you."

"Yes," Jaime hissed, slowly guiding her towards a steady, squeezing rhythm, showing her how to twist her wrist at the end and where to place particular pressure despite the less than ideal angle. "You can do that harder, like, fuck, just like that. I promise it's not going to break off."

"I know that, Jaime," she muttered, tightening her grip as she rubbed him faster, impressed by his ability to joke half way to orgasm.

"Have I told you how much I love your hands? Because I do. I love, gods, your hands and your eyes and, fuck, Brienne, every time you smile."

"You're beautiful when you ramble."

"All because you're such a quick study."

Brienne bit her lip, concentrating so hard that she could feel her forehead start to knit together as she gently rolled Jaime onto his back, shucking her shirt off her shoulders to match him once again, skin to skin, fighting the urge to cover them both up any one of the blankets at their heads, before taking his length in her hand again. He was softer to the touch than she'd expected, silk sheathing steel, all the blood rushing from his head making it easier to grip and stroke up the swollen, substantial shaft, the leaking tip helping her unpractised ministrations become a more regular, smooth slide of shiver inducing pleasure.

"Kiss me," he requested gruffly and she did, moaning in unison as he thrust his tongue past her lips almost in time with the movement of his hips, unravelling around whispered terms of endearment like she'd somehow pulled on a loose thread around his heart.

Feeling the flutter of Jaime's lashes against her cheekbone as he groaned and bucked further into her hand filled Brienne with a strange sense of gratification as he continued to steal her breath, his words and kisses of encouragement every time her hand stuttered preventing her heart from skipping beats, too concerned that she was making a mess of making him explode to feel overly self conscious as he made a point to keep caressing her naked frame.

"Oh gods, faster. Please, Blue, I'm so so close."

It only took another minute or so for him to roar her name loud enough to wake their neighbours, staring deep into her eyes while he rode out the climax until the last drop of desire had been wrung from his body.

"Mmmmm," Jaime breathed as he softened in her hand, still unable to keep quiet for more than a few seconds. "I don't ever want to do that without you again."

As hyperbolic as he might have been, Brienne couldn't help but want to agree. "Shouldn't 'next time' come before 'every time'?"

"Next time," Jaime promised, reaching for the tissues on her nightstand at the same time she started to pull the nearest blanket over their rapidly cooling limbs, a yawn almost splitting his face in two. "Next time we can see if that shower is big enough for two but right now is it okay if I just hold you?"

"That'd be nice," she sighed, petting through golden waves as Jaime wasted no time in resting his head on her shoulder, cuddling in close, his repeated yawning becoming contagious. "Thank you for tonight."

"I should be thanking you, Blue. Being with you turned one of the worst days of my life into one of the best nights."

"No, Jaime, I've...I've never felt loved or wanted like that before. I don't care if there's a next time, I just wanted to thank-"

"There's going to be a next time, Brienne," he interrupted ferociously. "And a time after. And a time after that. At least. You've just said it, why can't you believe it? I want and love you.

He admitted it so easily that she thought she must have fallen into a dream without realising, blinking as he rearranged his limbs to get a better look at her response.

"I think...I do. I do. I trust you. I love you."

"I know," Jaime sighed, snuggling back down under the comforter, his body pressing flush against her side. "You told me that right before I kissed you."

"I meant as...I meant exactly what you thought I meant."

"No regrets then?"

"Not one," she promised through an eye watering yawn.

He smiled, pulling her further down the bed, her head fitting neatly on top of his. "Get some sleep, sweetling. I'll be right here in the morning."

"Don't tell me what to do," she tried to mumble but her eyes were too heavy to hold up any longer.

**************

In the end, Brienne wasn't sure if the complaints of her empty stomach or the sound of a clearly hungover Tyrion falling through the front door actually woke her, but whatever had pulled her from one of the deepest, most vivid dreams of her life didn't seem to matter the second Jaime's arms tightened around her boxy waist, his sleepy kisses relighting fireworks down her neck and shoulder and wherever else he could reach without moving.

_He loved her._

"Ten more minutes?" he moaned into her skin, sounding bereft that he couldn't continue placing love bites around her pulse point for hours to come. "It can't be morning already."

"I think it's afternoon," she murmured, turning over so that she could stare into his eyes again, realising that neither of them wanted to let go of the other for long. "It was morning when we went to sleep."

"Then maybe we should stay here until it is morning again."

"I wish we could but I have to set up the lab for Tully's special AP class before tomorrow."

"My little professor."

"Teaching...assistant," she stubbornly insisted, the hard length of him grinding carefully against the softness between her thighs quickly starting to affect her ability to talk in full sentences. "Jaime..."

"I know, I know. Five minutes."

"If...If we're going to make this...regular thing I'm...alarm early."

"To be continued then?" he grinned lazily, shooting her a look that sent a spark of deliciously heady electricity down her back and made Brienne's toes curl.

"Sunday," she replied boldly, still sounding a little breathless as she reached for the crumpled comforter Jaime threw off as he slipped reluctantly from her bed. "Running."

"Or we can skip what we do every week and instead visit those hot springs you mentioned earlier. Go on a proper date like a proper couple just with a lot more kissing behind waterfalls."

"A date?"

"Yeah. We can go on a couple more this week as well, if you want."

"I want." She couldn't help but smile back, stretching into the warmth he'd left behind. Setting aside time for official dates when they had breakfast together every morning and slept across the hall from each other every night was going to be an interesting concept. "One problem, Jaime. The springs aren't officially open to the public until next month."

"Nothing wrong with a little privacy," he winked, forgoing redressing in his own pyjamas to pull on hers like he was happy to be claimed in the name of love. Or lust. Or whatever the hells they were getting themselves into. "I'm sure I can find someone in my family who can make a call and get us VIP access for a couple of hours. Okay, okay," he held up his hands in surrender as he caught sight of what must have been a deeply incredulous look on her face. "The whole day. Gods, Blue, you're truly insatiable."

"Are not."

"Are too!" he swore, mirroring her squared shoulders, folded arms and locked jaw, the stance losing most of its effect when Jaime swept his tongue across the surface of kiss swollen lips, studying her with all the inquisitiveness of someone who had every inclination of getting to know her a lot better.

She wanted to curse him to live just one day in uglier shoes. She wanted to call him back to bed and spend the rest of the morning lazily making out until Tyrion came looking for one of them but, considering how loud the youngest Lannister was now crashing around in the kitchen, Brienne didn't feel like she could do either without getting into the hows and whys of what she and Jaime had become.

_She loved him, too._

"What if _I_ call them?" she suggested. She hadn't yet been able to readily accept how many doors would throw themselves open to impress a Lannister, even one with Jaime's illustrious history. "The Stark girls have been wanting someone to cover a few environmental issues for the school newspaper and it's only been three years since I ran an entire section. I can't be that rusty."

"My very own Lois Lane." He smiled, looking grateful he wouldn't have to call in a favour from his family. Gods alone knew what his uncles, or terrifying aunt, would have asked in return.

"And that would make you what? Superman?"

"You said it, not me."

"Sunday," she reiterated, torn between smiling and rolling her eyes as he crossed the room to leave her with a good morning kiss to remember. "Running first, everything else later."

"I'll bring the sandwiches."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


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